


This Was Not The Plan

by WhiteFoxKitsune (ProwlingThunder)



Series: The Everlasting List of Shenanigans [90]
Category: Invasion America
Genre: Brothers, Crash Landing, Manglers, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/WhiteFoxKitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt!Fill.</p><p>Hypothetically, what would happen if Talon was stranded on a planet full of Manglers-- and ran into his gone-native baby brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Was Not The Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZpanSven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZpanSven/gifts).



> Prompt: Talon, hunger

It pressed down around him, broadcasted to everything that could hear, could listen, to every mind that had a hint of telepathic ability.

Talon's was less then most, as his family prided their physical skills more then the mental, but he wasn't bad at it. It was just enough-- more a fluke of nature, a sliver of mental ability that should have belonged to his horrid telekinesis and didn't. But it was enough that he could hear them, like a radio signal coming in loud and clear for the first time in a long time.

But instead of bringing relief, he could feel his anxiety mounting-- he'd not call it fear or terror, he refused.

It pressed against him, a sense of hunting, prey, skittish and fearful and good enough because it had successfully run off everything else anyway, and what else were they supposed to eat?

Of all the days to get lost in a godforsaken jungle---

Talon blinked. Stared at the golden-eyed figure who'd emerged from the underbrush, naked as the day he was born, and felt an odd sense of kinship and familiarity flow through him. The broadcast shifted somehow, echoing not-prey, not-food, and batting at the nearly overwhelming sensation of hunger that flooded the radio-waves.

“Valen? What the fuck--”

Valen jerked, shaking his head a bit-- harsh, and distinctly not a Tyrusian motion Talon had ever seen before. Then he clicked his jaw and seemed to refocus on him, and Talon felt his confusion rise. “I hope you have some MREs in that pack. We're hungry.”

“Yeah.... who's 'we'?” Four-legged monsters slinked from the brush as if called there by his words, and he felt his heart and stomach drop somewhere to the bottom of his feet as his fear climbed.

Across from him, Valen grinned a Mangler's smile. “My pack.”


End file.
